


Behaves

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boot Worship, Collars, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto’s put in his place.





	Behaves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He knows it’s weird. He knows it isn’t normal to have a boyfriend that’s so much older, scruffy and _strange_ —sometimes when Prompto looks at Ardyn, he understands why dogs skitter away from him and cats keep their distance. Maybe that’s why Prompto hasn’t introduced him to anyone yet. Or maybe it’s because of _this_ : the strange, murky intimacy that comes with Ardyn’s touch. It always feels so _sinful_ , and Prompto keeps his sins to himself. 

But he can’t help himself. He forgets Ardyn’s aura of unsettling darkness, because he likes the way Ardyn’s bigger hands feel when they’re around his throat. He likes the calloused brush of Ardyn’s fingers along his skin as they fasten his collar, clicking the sleek metal clasp into place. He likes the way Ardyn slides one thick digit between the black leather and his adam’s apple, testing the give. He enjoys the way Ardyn’s amber eyes sweep down his naked body, detached yet still approving. And he loves the authoritative, sophisticated way that Ardyn orders, “Get down on your knees.”

Prompto instantly obeys. He drops to the cold wood floor of the apartment, right in the middle of the living room, looking up at Ardyn with a sort of tempered desperation. This is where he likes to be, where it feels _right_ , even though he knows it’s wrong. It’s probably all tangled up in his low self esteem. He doesn’t have to pretend otherwise with Ardyn. He doesn’t have to smile and bounce on the balls of his feet, forcing out enthusiasm to keep away the numbing thoughts of what he _really_ is. He can just be the good soldier that he was probably meant to be, growing up where he was born, follow his commander, and let his mind drift pleasantly blank. Ardyn seems to know just what he wants and gives it to him.

Ardyn drops a hand into his hair and pets back through the spikes. Prompto melts into the touch, craving it: this is his favourite part. Ardyn coos, just like he’d hoped: “ _Good boy_.”

A delicious shiver runs through Prompto’s entire body. The praise warms him, even though he’s done so little to earn it. He’ll do more, earn _more_. Ardyn keeps lazily stroking him and purrs, “You look good at my feet, my sweet. You should have been made with fuzzy little ears and a nice tail, so you could truly be my kitten. You would like that, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

Prompto nods without hesitation. He doesn’t have permission to speak, so he won’t, even when his master baits him with a question. Prompto can follow orders. He’ll be a Crownsguard, someday, if Noctis will have him, even though he’s _nothing_. Ardyn will train him to be good anyway. Ardyn makes him feel like _something_ , which dizzily conflicts with why he wanted to submit to Ardyn in the first place. But Ardyn does that to him: makes it hard to think. Makes him _hard_.

Ardyn idly adds, “But then, kittens don’t shine their masters shoes, and that’s what you’re going to do for me now, isn’t it?” That’s not even a question. Prompto bites back a moan from the mere suggestion and does as he’s told. 

He bends down to the floor, sprawled on hands and feet and burning with wondrous embarrassment. It feels so _dirty_ to stick out his tongue and flatten it along the toe of Ardyn’s boot, but Prompto loves that feeling. Being _naughty_ for his lover. He gives long, broad strokes to Ardyn’s long shoes, then breaks into smaller, constant licks, lapping away at his master’s feet like it’s a bowl of milk. He can’t help but wonder what he looks like, bent over and serving well: would he make an attractive photograph? Could anyone get off to it? Could Ardyn possibly like looking at him as much as he likes presenting himself for this judgment? Ardyn lets out a low, affectionate chuckle and comments: “My, you certainly are gagging for it tonight... so eager to debase yourself... if only the prince could see you now.”

Lips freezing along the heel of Ardyn’s left boot, Prompto tenses. He always does when his boyfriend brings up his best friend, which happens oddly often. But Ardyn makes no more mention of Noctis, just nudges his foot into Prompto’s mouth, then steps away from Prompto’s drooling licks.

“Come along now,” Ardyn bids, strolling, to Prompto’s delight, in the direction of the bedroom. “And do keep up, pet, or I’ll have to fetch your leash.” 

Though the idea of his leash excites him, Ardyn’s approval does more, so Prompto crawls swiftly after.


End file.
